Your Secret Is Small And Cute
by MissMahjong
Summary: Sherlock and John come home from a case to a little surprise in their flat. Established relationship, Slash, Sherlock/John, Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I have no original creative rights to these characters, they bring me amusement and no profit what so ever.

Both Sherlock and John came home in the evening, from a case that left Sherlock thrilled about solving it, they climbed the stairs, up to their flat, John behind him.

"Oh, the look on Anderson's and Donovan's faces was priceless, if only my phone had a camera…" Sherlock stopped, frozen in his steps, just staring.

"Actually, I took a picture…?" John noticed the detectives frozen pose and face, he looked stunned.

"Sherlock? Are you-?" John looked in the same direction as Sherlock, there, in the genius seat, was little girl around a very young age with medium black curly hair, a round shaped face, brown freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are what startled John, they were the same ice blue color as Sherlock's, only the shape was round with long eyelashes that were damp because she had been crying. She looked up at the men; the sadness on her face was heartbreaking, John felt his lively spirits dampen but curiosity got to him as well.

"Good, you're both here, this little one didn't tell me much, only her name, it's Margaret, but she did say that she wanted to see Sherlock Holmes, and who am I to deny such a cute face, the poor dear, so I let her in. Since you're now here, I'll be off then." Mrs. Hudson left, curious about the little girl but figured it was none of her business, the poor thing might have lost a cat and wanted the detective to find it.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Hudson." John said

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock mumbled, still peering at the girl. Sherlock waited until he heard the door shut of the elderly lady's flat.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock said in a far away voice, which puzzled the doctor.

"Daddy, -hic- Mummy's dead."

Oh and did that simple statement floor John, so many things were going through his mind, he didn't know what to think, do or feel, he needed an explanation but on the outside he was looked just stunned as Sherlock.

The detective crossed the room, pulled a chair from the desk and sat near the young one, while motioning that John should sit in his own chair. John complied, still not sure of the situation and wanting answers.

"Tell me everything." Sherlock stared at her, an internal frustration in his face.

Holding her stuffed owl close to her, she began.

"Mummy was ill, I don't remember the name of her disease but she was weak. Mummy and Scott tried to do something about it, going to the doctors all the time but they couldn't help her, said she was too far into the illness and it was too late stop it. I saw Mummy die, -sniff- it looked like she was sleeping, but she wasn't."

John noticed she spoke clearly for some one so young, but her voice started to get wobbly, trying to hold in her tears. She continued,

"Mummy died yesterday, and this morning, Scott made me pack all of my clothes and brought me here, he said he had no reason to take care of me anymore –sniff-"

John just noticed the small suitcase, decorated and blue, pink, and purple flower print.

"Here, these are letters from Mummy and Scott. –sniff-"

She pulled them from her jumper pocket and gave them to Sherlock, he read the mother's letter first, John was trying to read Sherlock face, but he only saw a quick moistening of his eyes before he blinked them away. Sherlock handed the letter over to John, which surprised him but he read it as Sherlock started on the second letter. The first letter, from Margaret's mum, Gretchen, was terribly heart breaking, even John was tearing up a bit because she was apologizing to Sherlock about their agreement, her illness, and everything, it was like the poor woman was having a nervous breakdown. Margaret simply sat there, watching both adults read, still clinging to her owl toy.

Sherlock threw the second on the floor and glared at it, John gave him a questioning look, but Sherlock just sneered at the offending paper. The doctor reached to get it and read. This letter, from Scott to Sherlock was horrible, full on offensive insults towards Sherlock, Margaret and even some towards Gretchen; the nerve of this guy was unbelievable. The way it was written was hasty, compared to Gretchen's letter, which was well thought out to express her self, but Scott's letter brought anger into John's heart, just who was this heartless prick? John felt compassion for Gretchen's letter and little Margaret, but he also felt anger not only towards this Scott fellow but also Sherlock, for keeping the fact that he had a daughter, a secret from him. It made John want to question the trust in their relationship, not at the moment, but definitely later.

"I read the letters, both of them. Mummy said sorry too much, but she had nothing to be sorry about. Scott said a lot of mean stuff, I know he doesn't like me or Daddy, but he didn't have to say such things about Mummy!" Margaret spoke her heart, cracked voice and all, but she couldn't stop herself from crying out loud, an upsetting cry that could melt and soften the hearts of strong army men, at least that's what Watson thought and felt. Margaret squeezed her stuffed owl crying into it. Sherlock did something that shocked John but also made him fall in love with the man all over again. Sherlock got up from her chair, picked up Margaret, sat her on his lap when he sat in his chair, and let her cry on him, while he held her close and comforted her with soft words, but glaring into space. The scene was very paternal and John never thought of actually seeing how fatherly Sherlock could be but here they were, father and daughter, together. The temptation to use the camera on his phone was strong; there was something about this vision in front of him that he felt affection for but he couldn't place it and yet there was this little part of his brain that said he, John, was intruding on a family moment and that he shouldn't be there. John mentally punched that idea away, but it still ate at him, along with the questions he wanted to ask, but he would have to wait, the little one needed her father, John could see that.

~Further Into The Night~

Margaret fell a sleep crying in her father's arms, while John got some blankets and pillows to put her to rest on the couch. Both Sherlock and John silently retired to their room, leaving the door a bit open. Sherlock sat on the bed; face in a mixture of quiet frustration, while John was pacing a bit, his thoughts and feelings coming to the surface. With some space, John stood in front of Sherlock, looking at him while the detective wasn't making eye contact, his eyes were on the floor, but he knew what John wanted.

"Go on, tell me."

"Tell you what, John?"

"Where she came from?"

"From a womb, obviously!"

"Dammit, Sherlock! Don't, don't do this. I want an explanation."

Sherlock stood silent.

"Sherlock, I want a an explanation."

"I was depressed, drunk and on drugs, it was a party I went to. She, Gretchen, was drunk and we, well, you know."

"Ah, yes, I know. The result of that is sleeping on the couch as we speak."

Sherlock glared a bit at John for the remark.

"When I found out, I told her my job was dangerous and would understand if she wanted to aborted it, she didn't want to, she wanted to keep it. Mycroft stepped in and we worked an agreement. The child would have no association with me, but I would support her through Mycroft."

"Yes, everything goes through Mycroft, doesn't it? Mycroft knows everything."

"He's my brother, John."

"And what am I Sherlock?! Huh? I'm your fiancé, you prat! Didn't you know that you can trust me with a secret this huge?! Hm? Were you ever going to tell me about her?"

"No."

"No?"

"Yes 'No', and with good reason. Mycroft was protecting her, since he's more or less the British Government. No one knew about her, not Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Adler, not even Moriarity, John. Not one person knew I had a daughter, that's how well protected she was and now? It's all gone to shit."

Sherlock put his head in his hands and John stood silent, trying to comprehend all that was said.

"Sherlock." No action response

"Sherlock, look at me." Still no response

"Please?"

Sherlock looked at John through glossy blue eyes, reminding the doctor of their time in Baskerville, when Sherlock claimed to have seen the hound. John was taken back a bit and felt for him.

"You're really worried?"

"Of course I am, she was safe, with no direct contact or affiliation with me. She doesn't even have my last name."

"Sherlock, I-!"

"If you're wondering if I worry about you too, I do, but I know that you're capable of taking care of your self. You have experience in combat and firearms. What does she have? Nothing. She's a defenseless lamb if anyone was to take her, and they would do it, to get at me."

Sherlock lied on his back, on the bed, staring at the ceiling. John joined him, lying on his side, very close to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I didn't want to know if you're worry about me, I know you do. I wanted to apologize for getting mad at you for keeping her a secret, I understand why you did it, but you could have told me when we got together as a couple, you can trust me."

"I do trust you-

"Let me finish, its secrets like this that need to be shared, and I'll keep your secrets safe, Sherlock. You know I'll never betray you."

That hit Sherlock, right in the heart. He turned his face to look at John.

"Have I betrayed your trust?"

"Maybe, a bit, but you also earned it back."

Sherlock had a small smile, just for his John.

"I'm sorry John."

"I forgive you, so long as you trust me with your secrets."

"Even the Christmas presents and such, but those are surprises."

"No, not those, you can keep those. Nobody wants a spoiled surprise, but trust me with the life changing ones."

"Shit, this is a life changer, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind?"

"Not one bit."

**Author's note: **That was bit of drama in the Sherlock world, fictional drama is always better than real drama. Oh the temptation to continue this is strong, but after I try to make sequels to other fics I've been neglecting, mah fic babbus need meh!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they belong to their respective creators.

~ Your Secret is Small and Cute

It was around 8 in the morning when John woke up, and used the bathroom, still sleepy but that's what morning showers are for, with Sherlock tangled in the mess of pillows and blankets. John, took his shower and got dressed in comfortable lounge wear and went to the kitchen to make his coffee, as usual in the morning. He felt another presence, turned to where he felt it and saw Margret peeking through the door way. That's right, he just remembered what happened last night, finding out that Sherlock has a daughter. John smiled at her,

"Good morning."

"Good morning, um…"

"John Watson, nice to meet you."

"Margret Cornelius, nice to meet you too."

They shook hands, her small, soft and delicate hand in his strong and callous hand, but he gentle with his grip.

"Where's the loo, Mr. Watson?"

"Please, call me John and it's in the bedroom; your father is still sleeping, but it's ok, go right ahead."

"Thank you, John." She said in her soft child voice.

She entered the bedroom, heading towards the bathroom when she stopped to look at her sleeping father. Sherlock was lying on his stomach, his face towards Margret's direction, while she studied him from John's side of the bed. She observed him, thinking that here was her father, a man she's only seen in a few pictures and heard of from Uncle Mycroft, but she felt safer in this place with him and his friend, than she's ever felt when she lived with her mother and Scott.

Sherlock was in and out of sleep, enjoying the coziness of the blankets, when he felt eyes on him and since he felt no presence to his left, he knew who was watching him.

"Morning Margret." He mumbled in a sleep-fogged voice with eyes still closed.

She got startled, not expecting him to be awake.

"Morning Daddy."

Sherlock opened his eyes to see her inquisitive face, so innocent with those same colored eyes as his own.

"Don't you have to use the loo?"

She nodded quickly, entered the bathroom, did her business, washed up and got dressed. When she was leaving the bathroom, on her way back to the kitchen, Sherlock was sitting up, on his side of the bed.

"Margret, come here."

She went to the other side, where her father was and stood in front of him. Sherlock looked at her, no expression on his face or eyes, he was just observing her and her him.

"Daddy?"

Sherlock picked her up and hugged her in a parental and safe grasp and she didn't question the hug or protest because she felt even safer, in his hold.

After so many years from when he first held her, the day she was born, he cherished this moment just like he cherished that moment and memory. The day Margret was born was the day Sherlock realized that he had to keep his distance to keep her safe. That day was the last time he saw her in person until now. On the night of her birth however, the conflict within his heart of wanting to be a part of her life and wanting to keep her safe, broke down his walls and tore him inside out. He wept all night, until he called Mycroft, wanting to discuss if there were any alternatives but Mycroft convinced him that his distance from her was the best plan. That night was one of the few nights they cared for each other as brothers, with Mycroft offering words of comfort to Sherlock, to console him. Since then, he would send money, gifts, through Mycroft, to Margret and in turn would receive pictures of her, which he kept safe some where in the flat.

Although she was now in danger, Sherlock never wanted to let her go again, realizing that he missed so much of her life, her birthdays, first words, first steps and other milestones in those years. Now, he didn't want to miss any of that and he held her in a hug that silently said 'I'm here now and I always will be.'

Sherlock released her, trying to dry his glossy eyes,

"Go and talk to John in the kitchen, and don't be afraid to ask him for breakfast, he's very nice, I'll be in the shower."

"Okay, Daddy." And she left Sherlock alone in his bedroom, unknowingly being the cause for soundless tears on the Detective's face.

John cleared what he could from the table, trying not to touch Sherlock's lab equipment, when Margret took a seat at the table.

"John?"

"Ah, yes Margret?"

"Daddy's in the shower."

"Ok. Want some breakfast?"

"Yes please."

John marveled her manners, children that young usually weren't so calm and polite, running around with sticky fingers, snot on their face and screaming incoherently about an animated dish sponge. John was appreciating this rare gem and gave credit to Gretchen for raising a well mannered daughter. John opened the cabinet.

"All we have at the moment is cereal, " and said quietly to him self,

"I've to got the market later on."

"May I have some please?"

"Of course you may." Margret's manners really grew on John, she was so cute.

"We have quite a bit of bland ones, so, um… how about this one?"

"Yeah."

"I'll give you some sugar to sweeten it."

Margret hopped off the chair, heading towards the fridge, John Watson was being so nice to her, she wanted to help him out

"I'll get the milk."

"No, wait!"

She stopped in tracks, scared at the tone of his voice. John cringed at the tone he took with her, feeling guilty when he saw her scared face.

"Sorry, just, um.. there are other things than food in there."

"Other things, like what?"

"Um… really gross things, like old socks in a plastic bag, moss, dirt, that kind of stuff."

"Ew, why does daddy keep that kind of rubbish in there?"

"Yeah, that is something to 'ew' about and I've asked him the same thing. They're his experiments, which is why all this lab stuff is on the table. Have a seat, I'll get the milk."

Sherlock was still in the shower when John and Margret were eating their breakfast, with the little curly cutie growing curious about John.

"Can we talk?"

John looked at her, surprised

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you a friend of Daddy?"

Oh shit, and here come the questions about his relationship with Sherlock, he tried being subtle.

"Um, yeah, a 'special' friend."

"Special friend, like a …boyfriend?"

"Yeah, but more like fiancé." John decided to tell her the truth, to hell with being subtle. Her eyes lit up and glittered, with a cute smile.

"You and Daddy are going to get married? Can I be the flower girl?"

"Well, we'll need a flower girl."

"And you and Daddy in a big church, Daddy in a black tuxedo and you in a white tuxedo and you both have matching top hats to your tuxedos, yeah?"

John visualized what she said, unsure if what they each imagined matched, but he smiled at her enthusiasm, compared to her mood yesterday, a smile on her face was refreshing.

"Top hats, huh? I like the idea, though I imagine that we'll look real funny in them."

She giggled,

"Yeah. John?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love Daddy?"

"Yes, I do. Can't really imagine life without him." 'again'

"Does Daddy love you?"

"You should hope so. Yeah."

"Do you think Daddy loves me? Uncle Mycroft says he does, but I don't know…"

"Oh, I know he does."

She smiled shyly

"How old are you Margret?"

"Six years old."

"You're very polite for your age."

"Mummy said it was common courtesy to be polite to others." Her face went solemn when she thought of her mom.

John wanted to cheer her up.

"I bet she was amazing."

"Yeah, and she was nice, very pretty, and soft and smelled like chamomile."

"She sounds lovely."

"She was, and she would read me stories, sing to me and chase the bad dreams away. I'll miss her."

"From what you told me, your mother sounds like a good person that really loves you and I don't think she'll ever leave you alone as long as you have her in your heart."

"What do you mean?" Margret looked at John with hopeful eyes.

"Keep everything you remember about her in your memory, draw pictures, can you write?"

"I'm learning how to spell some words."

"Then later on you can tell me what you want to remember about your mum and I'll write it down for you."

"Really?" the hope in those ice blue eyes increased in brightness.

"Yeah, it's no trouble."

"Thank you, I appre-appreci- I ap-pre-ci-ate that."

John was honest with Margret, really feeling for this young one and how she lost her mother too damn early in her life.

"Since you and Daddy are getting married, then you'll be my step dad?"

"Yeah."

"Scott was my step dad too. I didn't like him."

"Well, to be honest, I've never met him but I don't like him either. I read his letter and he wasn't nice, writing mean and rude words, not very nice at all."

She smiled again, an expression that John could get used too.

"I like you John Watson, you're friendly, funny and nice to me. Not like Scott."

"I like you too Margret, and we both can agree on one thing."

"What's that?"

"Scott's a turd."

She giggled some more which had John smiling

Sherlock, clean and dressed from his shower, was toweling off his hair when he heard the giggles of his young daughter, like the sound of crystal bells. He smiled to himself, although it felt bitter because the feelings from last night and the night Margret was born overwhelmed him in the shower and still bothered him now. Sherlock left the room to find John and Margret sitting at the table finishing their breakfast. John smiled up at his fiancé to notice that his eyes were puffy and red.

"Morning John."

"Morning Sherlock.

The detective gave John a quick morning peck on the lips, and looked at Margret after, waiting for a reaction. She gave them a smile, completely at ease about their small kiss.

"Here's your tea."

"Thank you."

Margret studied her father's eyes

"Daddy, why are you eyes red?"

"Shampoo got in my eyes and it stings a bit, it's going away though." She ended with a sniff.

"You should rinse out your eyes to wash out all the chemicals."

Sherlock looked at John, both men wondering, 'How did she know that?' But then John gave Sherlock a serious and yet caring look.

"Margret?"

"Yes Daddy?"

"Want to watch some telly?"

"No, I want to finish a picture I was coloring, may I use the desk in the living room?"

"Sure."

"Let me clear up some space." John offered and soon she was using her crayons in her coloring book. John went back to the kitchen with Sherlock closing one side of the glass doors, he needed to talk to Sherlock. Said man was sitting at the table, mind and eyes lost in thought. John approached him.

"Shampoo didn't get in your eyes."

"No."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm still worried about her, being here, but that's not all. I want her to be safe but I also want her here, with us."

"Sherlock." John was massaging his back with one arm, a reassuring gesture.

"It's selfish, for me to endanger her life because I want to raise her now. She's better off away from here, from me but I just can't let her go now, I can't! I've missed so much of her life already." More tears of confliction ran down Sherlock's face. John kissed him softly and held him close, with the tall brunette gripping John's shirt.

"John, I know I'm asking too much of you but I want us to raise her, and I know I'll need your help because I'll be a shit father if I try to raise her by myself." Sherlock mumbled against John's shirt, voice all froggy from the recent tears.

John was about to answer when Sherlock pulled away from him suddenly,

"Mycroft's here."

Soon, they both heard

"Margret!"

"Uncle Mycroft. It's nice to see you."

"It's lovely to see you too, my dear." He kissed the top of her curly head.

Sherlock and John entered the living room, with the detective trying to eliminate any signs of weeping from his face.

"Why are you eyes red?"

"Daddy said he got shampoo in his eyes."

"Oh, is that so? Well, accidents happen, have it all taken care of?"

Sherlock's jaw tightened at Mycroft's remark and it almost went over John's head but then it clicked, ooh, that was a low blow.

"Perfectly." Sherlock clenched out, Mycroft smirked.

"That's good."

"Why are you here, Mycroft?"

"For obvious reasons, Margret's mother has passed on and that imbecile, Scott decided to leave Margret here. Funeral arrangements have been made for a small ceremony, three days from now, along with a reading of her Will. As for Scott, we tracked him down, trying to run away with Gretchen's life insurance, he's in custody at the moment. And now, for the… not so pleasant news, Margret can't stay here, Sherlock we've agreed that's it's too dangerous for her."

The little girl stopped coloring, paying attention to the grown ups, trying to keep her emotions and tears in check. She didn't want to leave, she felt safe there, with her Daddy and John, what was Uncle Mycroft talking about?

"Hey, Margret love, why don't you go-?"

"No, I want her to listen, stay right there Margret."

"Fine, she can listen, but she still need to leave this place, for her protection."

"I understand that, but I want her here."

"What?"

"You heard me, I want her to stay here, with John and myself." Sherlock told his brother.

"So, you're willing to put her life on the line because you're feeling sentimental? Do you know how inconsiderate that is?! I realize that it must have been a shock to see her after all these years but this reunion can't last forever. Sherlock if you're worried about where she will go, I've found a good family to raise her, they're distant cousins of ours but she will be safe."

"I refuse to let her be raised by 'distant cousins'"

"She isn't safe here, you know this!"

"How is she not safe? I'm a judo master with some firearm experience and John here is a military man with the knowledge and power to cut all significant arteries precisely."

"You're being stubborn! Think of your daughter and what's best for her!"

"I am and I believe that we, John and I are what's best for her, considering Gretchen is gone and Scott's an arse."

Mycroft turned to the Watson

"John, you understand right?"

"Oh, yeah, I understand."

Mycroft smirked, finally someone who agreed with him.

"But, I'm with Sherlock on this one,"

And the smirk was gone

"Sherlock told me how safe she was, when her mother was alive, him keeping a distance from her to protect her, I understand all of that. However, what I don't understand is how well was she protected in that house, living with Scott as well. No child should have to live in a house where they know and feel that the one person they could trust, doesn't like them and verbally abuses them? How long until he physically abused her or worse?!"

"That house was being monitored."

"Irrelevant now, because she's here, where she will be loved and cared for by two people she can trust, not just one." Take that Mycroft, for Sherlock.

Mycroft sighed in defeat, not liking the situation but secretly glad that they wanted to raise her, Sherlock and John were better for her anyway, he still didn't like it.

"You two realize what you're doing, yes?"

"Yes." Both men answered

"I'll be leaving then, bye Margret." He kissed her head again

"Bye Uncle Mycroft." She was a little scared from the heavy discussion the grown ups were having but was calming down because she could stay with her father and John, she went back to coloring.

"I'm not fond of this outcome but I'll be sending some of her personal items over here, to make her feel more at home, have a good day."

Mycroft left the flat; which let Sherlock and John breath in a sigh of relief and smiled in happiness.

"Thank you, John, so much."

"Anything within reason for you, and Margret is a good reason."

Sherlock eyed John, and light bulb.

"You got attached."

"Yeah, and, well, the flat wouldn't be the same with out her now, she… completes it. Plus she's smart, polite, cheeky and adorable. I want her to stay, just as much as you do."

Sherlock's gave John a gorgeous smile, a grateful smile and leaned down to whisper in his ear,

"I should give you a lap dance tonight, your aggressive was showing."

John blushed, hoping that the little one didn't hear that. She didn't, still coloring away in her book.

Mycroft got in his car, telling the driver to go.

"Anthea?"

"Yes sir?"

"Increase the status of 221B Baker St."

"To what status sir."

"The status of royalty."

**Author's Note:** That's was a bit of feels for this little family, and I couldn't resist just a little bit of spice towards the end. Mycroft cares for Margret, he does, but he also loves bringing up old shit and rubbing it in Sherlock's face. I'm planning on doing a few more chapters of her childhood and then an adventure in her teens.


End file.
